


Evensong

by poppy_dreams



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), completely and utterly self-indulgent, this fic threatened to strangle me if i didn't finish it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25579036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppy_dreams/pseuds/poppy_dreams
Summary: The final chorus of the Dragonsong War is reaching its climax, and Estinien fears he could end up losing everything left that he holds dear.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Evensong

**Author's Note:**

> _  
> Holy water cannot help you now  
>  Thousand armies couldn't keep me out  
> I don't want your money  
> I don't want your crown  
> See, I've come to burn your kingdom down  
> _
> 
> \-- "Seven Devils" by Florence + the Machine

Estinien could only watch on in horror as the draconic horde descended upon Ishgard, determined to destroy it permanently this time -- trapped and unable to control his own body as Nidhogg twisted and transformed it into his own image, joining in the destruction of his kin. Estinien could feel the blow of every attack struck, watching helplessly as knight after knight was mercilessly crushed, thrown into the abyss, or -- to the dragoon’s revulsion -- torn apart by the great wyrm’s teeth, the taste of their blood washing over his tongue.

He fought against the mental restraints futilely, much to the dragon’s cruel amusement. He could feel Nidhogg’s pleasure at the destruction of his home, and the anguish it was causing him. He was helpless, trapped…

It seemed as if the tide of battle was quickly turning against the Ishgardians as knights fell and were driven back by the horde. Pained and terrified screams mixed with the desperate yelling of commanders trying to rally their troops to push back -- but it was all hopeless. With their full force being brought down upon the city, it would only be a matter of time until it fell.

Estinien, who had sworn to protect his home until his last breath, could do nothing to stop it.

Suddenly, a roar pierced the sky that made Nidhogg’s head jerked away from the battle, and Estinien could sense the wyrm’s recognition. Three more dragons appeared from the clouds, flying quickly towards them to land on the bridge, placing themselves between the dragons and the Ishgardian knights. Estinien could see three familiar figures hopping off their backs: Alphinaud, Aymeric, and… her.

_ She _ was here.

A feeling he couldn’t quite name spread through Estinien: relief and hope, and so many other things all mingled together. As Nidhogg sensed it from the dragoon, his rage only grew. He swooped down to the bridge, his great dark wings spreading out around him as he slowed his descent.

Estinien was almost drowning in the fury that was coming off of Nidhogg. How dare his brother turn against him, and side with  _ them _ ? With the very beings who butchered their beloved sister? After a millennia of inaction, wallowing in his own self-pity, he chose now to step into the battle, against Nidhogg himself?!

Hraesvelgr’s pleas for the dark wyrm to stand down fell on deaf ears. Nidhogg wanted vengeance, he wanted  _ blood _ . He would not let these traitors live now, when his victory was so close at hand.

With earth-shaking roars, the two great dragons battled each other, besieging each other with attack after devastating attack. The battle around them all but ceased as both man and dragon watched on in awe and terror as the two took to the skies, the might of their combined powers filling the very air itself.

Estinien could feel the force of each blow as Nidhogg felt them, and he felt like he was drowning in the waves of Nidhogg’s pain and rage as he clashed with his brother. A millennium of grief and an insatiable thirst for vengeance threatened to overwhelm him, the pain piercing through him more than any blows Hraesvelgr could land. Estinien knew the weight of those emotions all too well. He’d let them consume his life for so long, and that single-minded focus had only led him here, to become a puppet of the wyrm.

Nidhogg raged against his brother, digging his claws into his scales and snapping at him. He lobbed every attack he could think of, using every onze of his aether he could call upon with each breath. The two struggled before Hraesvelgr landed a deft blow, sending his brother’s shade falling down, back towards the bridge below.

The alabaster dragon dove after him, his maw open and ready to attack. Estinien could feel Nidhogg’s fury tearing through him, burning like fire, as the dragon mustered all he could in one final surprise attack on his brother.

The two dragons hit the bridge hard, sending shockwaves through the stone. Nidhogg’s teeth sank into Hraesvelgr’s wing as the other roared in pain; with a mighty pull and a twist, he ripped it off, blood splattering the gray stones. Hraesvelgr lay defeated underneath his claws.

_ “Thou art weak, Hraesvelgr -- a slithering wyrm who fawneth on the vermin who should rightly be his prey _ ,” Nidhogg rumbled, tossing the torn wing to the side. _ “For a thousand years have I fought without cease -- and thou didst think to prevail against me!” _

_ “Glory not in thy victory, shade,”  _ Hraesvelgr responded. _ “The battle… is not yet won. My power -- and my hope -- I have entrusted to another…” _

His eyes opened, revealing one empty socket. Nidhogg roared angrily. _ “Thine eye! What hast thou done?!” _

The dragon’s head snapped to the side, his burning gaze settling on Wyra, who stood across the stone bridge from the two dragons. Before her was Hraesvelgr’s golden eye, shining with his power, his aether flowing into her. She met the dark wyrm’s gaze, glaring up at him in defiance as she stepped forward, the eye’s power flowing around her and casting a warm light.

Estinien felt fear suddenly grip him as he watched her tiny form approaching the great wyrm. With a mere swipe of his claws or a crushing blow from his maw, Nidhogg could end her there, in front of him, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. His panicked attempts to regain control of his body renewed, though it did nothing. Nidhogg barely paid him any mind, his attention focused on the Warrior of Light as she drew her weapon from her back, the star globe spinning between her palms from her magic.

_ “I know thee…,”  _ said Nidhogg, stepping away from Hraesvelgr towards her. _ “‘Twas thou who didst intrude upon my lair and best the half of me. But now I am whole, and naught in creation shall deny me my vengeance!” _

He leapt into the air, gliding closer and landing with a loud thud before the Miqo’te, who stood her ground and glared up at him. The beast let out a furious roar as he dove toward her, but i haWyra was quick and danced out of the way of his snapping jaws. Her weapon whirred as she sent a magical blast at his head in retaliation, earning an angry snarl.

Estinien watched anxiously as she moved around the battlefield, dodging Nidhogg’s attacks where she could and attempting to shield herself where she could not. Every blow that found its mark was quickly healed by her magic, and every chance she had to cast, she sent another powerful attack at the dragon.

The two fought on like this, as she endured the barrage of claws, fangs, and fire that Nidhogg sent her way. As the battle dragged, Estinien could see her starting to tire; her breaths coming in heavier gasps, her steps a half-second slower, and her wounds not getting healed quite as quickly as they had before. Nidhogg was not faring much better, and only growing more enraged as he found every attack rebuffed, and every attempt to end the small Miqo’te thwarted.

The dragoon struggled to regain control, his fear for the warrior growing. He could not even try to wrestle Nidhogg’s attention away from Wyra -- so focused was he on killing her. She had proved herself more than a capable warrior time and time again, and he silently begged her to prevail once more, to keep fighting until she finally defeated the wyrm.

_ Please, Halone _ , he found himself praying.  _ Please. Let her triumph. Let her live. _

He suddenly felt Nidhogg chuckling darkly, sensing his thoughts. The dragon settled on one side of the bridge, facing the panting Warrior of Light who watched him carefully. He spread his wings and let out a great roar, his fiery aether surrounding him. Estinien could feel his body shifting again, morphing into a new, grotesque form.

_ “Look upon the fool who dared embrace my power!” _ Nidhogg roared.  _ “Witness the darkened wings that beat about his shriveled soul!” _

Wyra’s eyes went wide as she beheld his new form. He had transformed into a monstrous version of Estinien, with great black wings beating from his back, and his gauntleted hands ending in long, sharp claws. His lance was gripped tightly in his right hand as he glowered down at the Miqo’te from underneath his visor.

Anger and shame roiled within the dragoon. Out of everyone, she was the last person he’d ever wanted to see him like this. The damned wyrm was exposing his absolute failure by twisting his very image to taunt the woman. The pain that he saw her expression twist into sent another pang of guilt through him. He didn’t want her to see him like this, to force her to fight him.

“Estinien!” Wyra gasped -- and as she faltered, Nidhogg struck. He surged forward, leaving her with only seconds to shield herself from the brunt of the attack. It still hit her hard, sending her flying back into the wall of the bridge and leaving her sprawled on the ground.

_ NO! _ Estinien wanted to roar. Nidhogg cackled as he watched the warrior crumple and felt the dragoon’s surge of fear and worry. When he spoke, his voice came out as a deep, distorted version of Estinien’s:  _ “What is the matter, warrior? Art thou too afraid to harm thy friend?” _

It was a waking nightmare. He felt his body moving on his own -- familiar and grotesque -- watched his own clawed hands inflicting pain on the last person he’d ever want to hurt. Her hair fell over her face as she slowly looked up from her position, but he could see the way her expression had twisted into distress as her eyes fell on him again. Shame filled him as he imagined what she must see before her: a disgraced dragoon being forced to destroy everything he cared about by the very being he’d sworn vengeance on.

Fury take him, he felt like such a fool.

Wyra quickly pushed herself off the ground, lifting her star globe to cast a healing spell over herself. She watched the deformed Estinien warily, hesitating before casting another malefic spell at the enemy with an enraged cry.

The battle continued, though it was clear Nidhogg’s sudden change in appearance had shaken the Warrior of Light. Her movements and attacks were a lot more unsure, and she found herself on the back foot, defending from life-threatening blows more often than she was attacking. Nidhogg was relentless, charging at her with the lance, firing spell after spell.

The tide of the battle had turned against her quickly. Fear gripped Estinien as he watched out from the shade’s eyes. He could feel every blow of his weapon against her, and saw the pained expression on her face whenever she looked up at him. Her conviction had faltered, and though she still tried to put up a fight, he could tell she was holding back.

_ Fool _ , he thought.  _ Why? Why hold back now? You could end this here! _

He’d seen her battle more than her fair share of formidable foes. Estinien knew what Wyra was capable of. If there was anyone who could defeat Nidhogg, it would be her. And yet, as soon as Nidhogg had changed his form to taunt her, she’d fallen right into his claws.

He felt a surge of glee from Nidhogg as he managed to land another blow that sent her prone once more, rolling hard on the damaged stones. Panting, Wyra pushed herself up onto her knees, reaching for her weapon. The wyrm let out another dark laugh as she struggled.

_ “Thou art weak, mortal,” _ he taunted.  _ “Thou canst not save thy precious dragoon. I shall kill thee with his own hand, and then I shall finally extract my revenge on mankind.” _

The dragon’s shade descended as Estinien felt his body shift once more. Gone were the wings and claws that had adorned his monstrous form, leaving just the form of the dragoon in his bloodstained armor, the eyes of Nidhogg protruding from the arms. Underneath the visor of his helm, she could see his face, laced with the glowing red lines that showed Nidhogg’s possession.

A pained expression crossed Wyra’s face as he slowly stepped toward her, a cat ready to play with its cornered prey. He spread his arms out wide, smirking.

_ “Go on, warrior,”  _ he jeered.  _ “Go on and attack. Finish off your  _ Estinien.”

Wyra flinched at the emphasis on Estinien’s name. She held up her weapon, the star globe glowing with aether, and she began to ready an attack -- but faltered again. Her eyes dropped to the ground as she lowered her arms, weapon going dormant once more. Nidhogg laughed cruelly at her submission, his footfalls finally stopping just before her. She slowly looked up and met his eyes.

“Estin--” The name had barely left her mouth when the blow sent her tumbling backwards hard against the ground. Wyra groaned in pain, trying to push herself back up once more with trembling arms. Estinien felt anger, fear,  _ anguish _ welling up inside of him as he struggled, though the result was always the same. He could only watch on as his body approached her.

_ “To think that Hraesvelgr wouldst gift thee with his power,” _ he murmured, looking down at her with derision.  _ “Thou hast made a mockery of me for the last time, mortal.” _

The shade knelt down on one knee over her as she struggled to push herself up into a seated position. She met his eyes, her expression sorrowful, looking absolutely pitiful in her beaten and bloodied state. A blow to the head had left a trail of blood down the side of her face, staining and matting the pink locks of hair that framed it. Her robes and the fur of her tail had been singed by fire, and splotches of blood stained her torn clothes.

Estinien felt his heart twist as he looked down at her, so exhausted and broken. He had done this to her. His weakness had allowed Nidhogg to possess his body, and now she had to pay the price for his mistakes. He wished she could have finished him off instead. He’d rather give his own life than to watch her suffering at the hands of Nidhogg.

He watched two streaks of tears fall from her eyes as she reached up towards him with a shaking hand. Her fingers softly brushed against his exposed cheek, her eyes never leaving his.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wanted… to save you.”

Estinien felt Nidhogg raising the lance at his side, poised for the finishing blow. He felt panic grip him, and silently begged her to move, to attack, to do  _ anything _ to save herself, but she barely even paid the weapon any mind, her eyes fixed on his face. Instead her other hand came up, and she cupped his face under his helm gently.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, quieter this time. “I love you.”

Wyra leaned in and gently pressed her lips against his.

That moment seemed to stretch on for Estinien. He felt her warm lips brushing softly against his own. He could smell the blood that stained her face and the burned hair and clothes from the battle, all mixed in with a scent that was distinctively  _ hers _ . A sudden warmth spread through him, blossoming in his chest and seeming to awaken the trapped dragoon. His connection to Nidhogg’s thoughts and emotions faltered and faded away as his world was focused on the kiss, on Wyra.

He loved her, he realized in that moment. He loved her, and he would rather die than let her face her end here, because of him.

The dragoon’s arm jerked as Nidhogg tried to bring the lance down upon the Warrior of Light, but found himself suddenly stopped. His hand began to twitch, the fingers slowly uncurling themselves from the lance until it clattered to the ground. Wyra pulled away from the kiss in surprise at the sound, looking on in confusion at the possessed dragoon’s strange ministrations.

“You will not--” Estinien growled. His voice was strained with effort of containing the dragon’s shade, but it was  _ his _ voice that came from his mouth. “You will  _ not _ lay another finger on her.”

Wyra’s eyes widened, watching the lines on his face disappear. “Estinien!” she cried out. Hope lit up her face as she realized he was regaining control. “You can fight him! I  _ know _ you can win!”

With a snarl, the wyrm regained control, shoving himself back and away from the woman. The hand that held the lance flew to Estinien’s throat and  _ squeezed _ , painfully cutting off his air supply. The armor around his neck creaked with strain as Estinien choked out blood. He heard Wyra’s panicked call as he fought to regain control.

_ “Thou… wilt… obey!” _

The dragoon wrestled to the front again, coughing up more blood. He looked up at Wyra pleadingly.

“ _ Please, _ ” he gasped. “While I have him subdued. You must finish me…”

Wyra was staring at him, wide-eyed and shaking her head. She couldn’t kill him, couldn’t have someone else she cared about die in her arms.

“Wyra! Estinien!”

Footsteps echoed off the bridge as Alphinaud appeared from behind, kneeling down beside her. She looked up at him, and some kind of silent communication passed between the two as they both nodded, expressions hardening into determination. They knew what they had to do.

Alphinaud took her by the arm and helped her up, and with Wyra leaning heavily against him, the two closed the distance toward the dragoon, each grabbing hold of one of the eyes fused to his armor. Her legs and arms were trembling from the strain of even standing, but Wyra’s grip on the eye was sure. They didn’t have a better chance than this. She began to pull.

“You waste your time,” Estinien wheezed, struggling to keep control over the enraged wyrm. “Kill me! It is the only way! Ending Nidhogg… will be my final duty…”

“No!” Wyra snapped, her teeth gritting together as she wrestled with the eye. “You will  _ not _ die here, Estinien! Not like this!”

A pulse of Nidhogg’s dark aether shot out from the eyes, traveling up her and Alphinaud’s arms — they both cried out in pain, and he flinched at the sound. Wyra dug her fingers into the eye, refusing to let go, despite further strain on her body. The pain coupled with her wounds had her vision dimming around the edges, and she struggled to stay upright, to keep her grip.

Just as all seemed as if it would be lost, she felt a cool touch lay itself over her hand, soothing the pain from the eye. Blinking through her exhaustion and pain, she thought she could see a familiar face smiling down at her. It renewed her strength, and with one final, forceful pull, she and Alphinaud managed to pry the eyes from the dragoon’s armor.

Stumbling from the sudden loss of the opposing force, Wyra fell to the ground on her back, the eye gripped tightly in her right hand. With the last of her strength spent, she found it harder and harder to keep her eyes open, and her vision began to blur. She was so sore, and so tired, and it felt so tempting to just let sleep take her...

The last thing she heard before she succumbed was Alphinaud calling her name, and the sound of footsteps running toward them. Then-- blackness.

\--

Estinien would no doubt get an earful for being out of bed when he was on strict orders to rest and let his body recover, but he hardly cared about the disapproval of some grumpy healer anyway. Besides, he’d spent enough time laying in bed, letting them all poke and prod and attend to him, much to his annoyance.

Today, however, he couldn’t rest any longer.

He found her room easily enough; it was rather close to his own. No doubt Aymeric was wringing his hands in worry over the both of them collapsing on the bridge after the battle, and wanted to keep them close, where Ishgard’s best healers could attend to them. When he slipped inside the room and found her sound asleep, he gently closed the door behind him. Quietly, he padded across the floor to an empty chair that had helpfully been left by her bedside -- likely from one of her other many visitors who had come to check on her.

Estinien looked down at her sleeping form, finding himself oddly relieved to see her chest rising and falling evenly under the plain white linen gown they’d dressed her in. That was the only relief he was allowed -- for although she was alive, she was heavily bandaged and bruised. Guilt twisted in his chest as he took in her injuries. She was laying here because of him. If he hadn’t been so careless, hadn’t let his guard down, hadn’t let Nidhogg take possession of him…

Wyra’s stirring brought him out of his rumination. Her eyes slowly opened and eventually found their way to him, and he felt as if his heart skipped a beat.

“Estinien,” she said softly, smiling up at him.

He suddenly found himself at a loss for words. Though Alphinaud and Aymeric had assured him that she was fine and recovering well, he’d come here to see her for himself. Now that he was here, though, and with her eyes looking up at him like  _ that _ , he wasn’t sure what he should even say.

Especially since he’d almost killed her.

“What’s wrong?” she said finally, her smile slowly fading. She moved her hand towards him, and he found himself reaching out as well, gently taking it in his own. It felt warm, and he could feel another wave of relief wash over him. He’d been so close to losing her -- so close to being the  _ reason _ why she was almost gone -- and yet she still had risked everything to try to save him. Estinien looked down at their hands, her smaller one almost completely enclosed within his.

“You’re injured,” he managed to say, not trusting himself to say much more at the moment. Wyra smiled again and shook her head.

“I’ve had worse.” That was no doubt a lie, but he didn’t press her on it.

His thumb gently stroked along her knuckles as a silence fell between them. There was so much that Estinien wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to even start. His mind went back to the battlefield, the feeling of her hands on his cheeks, her lilac eyes filled with tears but looking at him with such _ longing _ , her lips pressing against his…

“How are you feeling?” Wyra asked, breaking the silence and pulling him out of his thoughts. Her eyes were looking him over, taking in his own injuries with a frown on her lips.

“I’m fine,” he assured her, which was mostly true. He’d probably ache like hell for a long while, but considering all that he’d been through, he was lucky to even be here and able to walk about.

Wyra nodded in response, then bit her lip, looking thoughtful. Her eyes glanced down and away from him, and he felt her hand softly squeezing his own. Finally, she took a breath.

“Estinien, I--” She paused, frowning. “I mean, I wanted to -- What happened during--”

“I love you,” he found himself murmuring, only realizing what he said as soon as it came out. He quickly glanced away as she looked up at him, stunned.

Wyra soon found her voice again. “You...do?”   


His heart was beating hard in his chest. Estinien felt ridiculous, suddenly feeling like a self-conscious little boy with his first crush. The two of them had just barely survived the final battle with Nidhogg, and this was what was giving him pause?

Hesitantly, he nodded.

He felt her squeeze his hand again, and he glanced back down at her, surprised to see tears running down her face. Panic started to girp him as he wondered if he had done something wrong. He frowned and reached over, gently wiping away a tear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured gruffly, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. Wyra bit her lip and gently shook her head.

“No, don’t apologize,” she said, turning to smile warmly up at him. “I’m just… so happy right now. I’m happy that you’re alright, that we’re both here and… and that you feel that way.”

Estinien felt that warmth bloom in his chest again when she looked up at him like that. He realized slowly that he had loved her for far longer, but was so blinded by his single-minded pursuit of vengeance that he never let himself acknowledge it until it was almost too late.

His mind went back to the kiss. He remembered the sorrow in her eyes as she looked up at him, the hopelessness that both of them felt in that moment, how she wanted to use what she thought would be her last moments to show him that she loved him, the pain in his chest at the thought that he’d almost lost her…

The hand at her cheek gently cupped it, thumb stroking the streaks left by her tears. She leaned into his touch, smiling fondly up at him as her own hand covered his. Carefully -- not wanting to aggravate either of their injuries -- he leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips. 

As he pulled away slowly, he heard her whisper against his lips, “I love you too, Estinien.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sap. Don't judge me.
> 
> Thank you so much to Star from the wonderful [Emet-Selch's Wholesome and Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic) for being amazing and beta reading this fic for me. If you like fanfiction and the folks who write it, then I highly recommend joining the Discord server!


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